Blood on Her Hands
by Aaya123Woods
Summary: Because she didn't used to thirst for blood on her hands. Modern. Rated for gore, creepiness, and some adult themes.
1. Peeta

_Oh, yeah. That girl? Her older sister was my old sweetheart. Disappeared a few years back. She's never been the same. Lotta people say she's just in depression. Most people say she's unhinged._

She smiled down. She'd show them unhinged.

_At first, she was sorta rabid. She'd snarl at anyone who came close. She used to bite and scratch her mother when she tried to feed her._

She remembered feeling like that. The only reason she stopped was because she was hungry. She may be 'unhinged,' but she wasn't suicidal or anything. She tucked the butcher knife into her bag.

_Then she would hole up in her room for hours, never bothering about her mother's pleas to come out and talk._

She crept out of the house, sneaking down the road into the bar.

_The crazy little waif just wanders around, staring at nothing. Her phases lasted maybe a year each. Such a small town, everybody wonders what she'll do next when they've got nothing to do._

_'_The crazy little waif's' phase was about to begin. She snuck into the bar, crouching behind the counter.

_Wait. Did you see that?_

_What?_

_I thought I saw something small and white..._

She tensed and mentally cursed her clean white nightgown.

_Never-never mind._

She relaxed.

_What's her name?_

_Hmm? What?_

_The girl. What's her name?_

_Primrose Everdeen._

She could hear the sounds of gulping and sighing.

_Well, I think we should go home now. We'll have awful hangovers at work tomorrow._

Roommates. Perfect. Or brothers. Even better.

_Do you get the feeling we're being watched?_

_Wha?_

The other man was slurring badly, clearly more drunk than the other one. She decided to keep the drunker one alive longer. She enjoyed the screaming. Well, she enjoyed the screaming of the cat, but it hadn't been enough. She thirsted for the blood on her hands and the screams carrying. She heard the first man sighing.

_Never mind._

Now they were in an alley. Office buildings, windows dark, were on both sides and office buildings and stores up and down the block. Nobody would find the bodies for a long, long time. She leapt out, drawing the knife and plunging it into one man's back. He screamed. It was the clearheaded one. She twisted and knocked the drunken man on the head. He fell, unconscious. She turned to the man she had stabbed and sat on his stomach.

_The first thing is excruciating pain. Then I yell in agony, and fall backwards onto the stab wound. I can see the girl knock my poor drunk brother on the floor. He's unconscious. Then she turns and jumps onto me. I can see the glint of crazy in her eye. She's wearing a pure white nightgown. That's what it was. _Let's start slow, shall we? _she purrs. Then she flips me over-how did she get that strong?- and smears grit into my back. I shriek, praying someone will hear me, but of course nobody does. Then I hear something shaking. Something grainy pours into the wound. Salt. She brought salt. Now I'm screaming. She chuckles. Then she turns me over and traces my features with the bloodstained knife. She stabs me again and again until I'm begging. Then, along with the crazy, I see the girl she used to be. She was innocent and sweet, the whole town loved her. That girl takes over for a moment, just a moment, and then sweet oblivion._

She stumbled back. To cover up, she killed the other man too. But she didn't torture him. Then she looked down. There was blood on her hands. The crazy was back. She smiled and ran.

Well, Katniss. Peeta and his brother down. Who next?

_Mother._


	2. Mother

_Her sister—my daughter—disappeared coming home from school one day. She was furious._

She wouldn't need something quite so big for this one. Just a penknife, that was good enough.

_The police searched and searched. They never did find my daughter, or even a clue what happened to her._

She was going to show everyone. They didn't care about Katniss anymore. The only reason the police searched for her was because her mother told them. They didn't care. They didn't care. They didn't care they didn't care they didn't caretheydidn'tcaretheydidn'tcare…

_Now my daughter has gone odd._

They. Didn't. Care.

_She doesn't answer me. She always is wandering out of the house. Even Buttercup can't soothe her._

That stupid cat. She had taken care of him already.

_I'm sorry. You've suffered the loss of more than one daughter._

Her mother was crying now, she could see from the cupboard, into the shoulder of her new _boyfriend._

She would kill him too.

_And—and I j-just don't kn-know w-what to d-do!_

She ran out of the cupboard and quickly slit the boyfriend's throat. It was her mother she was after. He let out a strangled cry.

_Prim! What's wrong with you!_

That set her off. Growling, she advanced on her mother.

_I cower. Prim, my sweet, darling daughter is coming at me with a knife. Prim, I cry. What's wrong with you! I fall back, because she is making a guttural noise deep in her throat. I can see her crazy eyes, glinting off of the fireplace. She raises the knife and smiles. I know this will not be easy for me. She is not Prim anymore. Prim didn't hurt a flower._

She smiled, but she was still growling. She leaned forward. Her mother was petrified with fear.

_No. No, no, no, no, no…_

Yes…

_PLEASE!_

She thrust the penknife into her mother's kneecap. She screamed, a long, bloodcurdling scream.

She loved it. She relished it. She longed for the piercing shriek filling her ears, the air was heavy with a palpable agony that she adored.

She pushed the penknife farther, everywhere: under the nails, the soles of the feet, kneecaps.

Eyes.

She finally shoved the penknife into her mother's (must stop calling her that) eyes. The blue irises were gone, and blood was pouring out of her mother's (have to stop calling her that) empty sockets. She screamed and screamed as she allowed the blood to flow onto her hands, to saturate them and crust them.

Then she pulled out her mother's (gotta stop calling her that) intestines. She cut off her feet. She enjoyed every minute.

And then her mother (HAVE TO STOP CALLING HER THAT) died.

Who else, Katniss? Who else?

_Haymitch._


	3. Haymitch

This one would be particularly difficult. Haymitch was extremely paranoid and carried a knife and a loaded gun wherever he went.

_Errgh, gimme sommor!_

At this point he was so drunk it barely mattered.

_'Lo, li'l lady. Haw c'n ah 'elp ya?_

Slurring and nonsensical. This would be fun.

_Wussat?_

Nothing, she answered sweetly. Just a rock I'll use to kill you, you drunken idiot.

_Hum dee bum bum dum dee dee hum dum…_

He should've been arrested for stupidity.

_You a funny-lookin._

Idiot. But he didn't care. That was why he had to go.

_Wai… you dat girl…_

She had to do it quickly. She reached up and slammed the rock into his head

He was disoriented.

_Wha? No, no. Knife._

She snatched the knife away from him. She couldn't dilly-dally with this one. She wondered why she was so anxious all of a sudden. She resumed her mantra. They didn't care. They didn't care. They didn't care.

_Blood. Blood everywhere. I wished I wasn't so drunk. I gasped and tried to block the bleeding as she dismembered me. I screamed. Long, loud. Blood._

She smiled blissfully. The blood was washing over her hands again and her anxiety dissolved. The screams were flooding her ears and she felt good.

_Gone._

But it was incomplete, somehow. Too short. She sat back on her haunches. The stress was quickly rushing back. Dead blood was a no-no. But she couldn't kill two people in one night. More than one person every two or three weeks was far too risky. It was an uproar. Quiet, dingy little town like this, suddenly subject to seemingly random, frequent disappearances. She smirked.

Back to the problem at hand. She was rapidly getting more stressed. The blood was a drug. It was addicting and wonderful_._

She grinned as she came to the conclusion. So obvious.

She took up the knife, grit her teeth, and cut a deep, jagged line into her arm. Rivers of blood flowed down her arms. She licked her cuts, relishing the warmth and metallic tastes of the blood. Her blood.

Okay, Katniss. Who next?

_Gale._


	4. Gale

This one wouldn't be as easy…. Relax. She cut open her arms again and reveled in the lovely blood. Relaxed.

_I was_ _with her when it happened, you know._

Wait… what? With who? When what happened?

_Katniss. We were going to the mall. Actually I was trying to take her mind off that Peeta guy._

What a nauseating, lovesick puppy. She got ready to jump out.

_I told her to stay at the entrance of the mall. I went to buy flowers and chocolate. I know I should've gotten them beforehand but it was a hot day, and the chocolate would've melted. But she wouldn't have accepted them anyway. She was never a flower-and-chocolate girl._

She paused.

_I got her the things, but when I came back, she was gone. I looked for her a long time._

Dang right a long time. They searched for her for three and a half years. She wanted to help. But nobody lets a twelve-year-old search for a missing person, even if said person was that twelve-year-old's sister.

_I called her a billion times, but on maybe the twelfth time, it said the number no longer existed. That's when I got really scared._

_Yeah, yeah, yeah. Now, did you bring me over here to make out or reminisce about your ex?_

_I did _not _bring you over to make out, I brought you here because I thought you'd understand._

Sure _ya didn't. Now, I think…_

_Do _NOT _take your shirt off._

She glimpsed the girl stripping slowly and smiling seductively. As if anyone would choose that slut over Katniss. Then she saw Gale staring at her. She filled with unholy rage.

She leapt out, shrieking. She twisted and stabbed the girl in both legs. There. That would keep her. Then she turned to Gale, who was struggling to unlock the door.

_Stop! Please!_

You. Don't. Care.

_What?_

You don't care about her! You're bringing home sluts!

_Katniss?_

Of course, Katniss!

_Of course I cared about Katniss! I've loved her since she was fourteen!_

LIAR! She screamed. She jumped onto him, stabbing him again and again.

_No! I loved her, I did, and after she vanished I swear I tried to help you! He was crying._

Then she cut off his fingers. One. By. One.

_Tears leaked out of my eyes as her knife bit slowly into my left hand. Finally, as she lifted my arm, showing me the hand that was hanging by a thread, I yelled in agony and fear._

She continued, slowly cutting off his hands, arms, toes, feet, legs. As he screamed on his last breath, she thrust herself under the flow of blood. She was drenched when she turned to the girl. The slut screamed in fear, and she grinned toothily. She hated this one _so much. _So she killed her in a special way. First she dismembered her, so the slut would suffer, and so she couldn't run. The she leaned over and tore out the slut's throat. The slut gurgled and bled. She lay next to the slut as she died, pushing her fingers into the open hole of her throat. She could feel the bones if she pushed hard enough.

All right, Katniss. Who else?

_Finnick._


	5. Finnick

She crept behind him, looking around warily. Why did he have to live on the coast? Oh, well, at least it was dark.

_Hey, Annie. I won't be home till late, eleven at least. Say hi to Connor for me._

On the phone, knee-deep in the ocean. What if the blood washed up? No, relax. She cut herself. She didn't feel much better. That was odd.

_I shoved my phone into my pocket._

She cut deeper. The pain and blood intoxicated her; she was completely addicted.

_I thought I heard a shuffling behind me._

He turned around and saw her. She would have to do it. Right here, right now.

_Prim! You…_

Come on, pretty boy.

_Why do you have a knife?_

Well, Finnick, I'm going to kill you tonight. Poor little Connor. But she wasn't going to say that. Hard enough to kill him.

_Oh my God. It's you who've been killing them, right?_

She smiled.

_Do you know how many friends I've lost?_

You don't care about her. So I don't care about you.

_You've become a monster, Prim._

She wasn't going to hold another conversation with a…victim. Growling, she leapt onto him.

_Lifting my arms to try and shield myself, I stumbled back and fell. She smiled at me and I noticed a scar on her forearm. Were you cutting yourself? I gasped._

No longer smiling, she drove the penknife into the space over his collarbone. He howled in agony. She paused as a thought occurred to her. She cut, deeply, up his neck, over his ear, around his head, and back down. He shrieked, a long, unbroken cry, the sound of somebody in immeasurable pain. She threw herself on top of him, allowing the blood to cover her and soak her. And then Finnick died.

Okay, Katniss. Who next?

There was no answer. She slammed the knife down.

Who? She screamed.

Pause. Then, _You._


	6. Prim

She took a deep breath. And then another. And another. She sighed. Then straightened her back. If Katniss wanted her to do it, she would do it. She took another deep breath. And pushed the knife into herself.

_Prim!_

She gasped, and tried to turn around. But she was already dead.


End file.
